Of The Spirit
by jsk
Summary: The crew of the USS Voyager are attacked by an alien species


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DISCLAIMER: "Star Trek" is the copyrighted by Paramount, and Paramount  
owns Star Trek and the Star Trek Universe. The following story is   
not-for-profit.  
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Of the Spirit  
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(c) Jasjit Singh, March 1999  
  
The crew of the USS Voyager was celebrating. They had just completed  
another milestone in their long journey towards Earth, and everyone was in  
a jovial mood. A group of the senior staff agreed to head down to the mess  
hall for their celebration. On their way, Tom Paris and Seven of Nine  
encountered Chakotay in the hallway.  
  
"Chakotay, you'll be joining us in the mess hall?" inquired Paris.  
Chakotay grinned but shook his head.  
"I need to be getting back to my quarters," he replied.  
"Its early still! Come on, have a drink with us," cajoled Paris.  
"Thanks but I can't. It is coming close to my meditation time," said  
Chakotay, smiling politely.  
"Ah, yes, the daily meditation," Paris nodded. "You have been doing that  
day in and day out, every day since I've known you. Doesn't it get  
repetitive?"  
"Repetitive, no. Customary, yes. Beneficial, absolutely."  
"I don't know, Chakotay. We're in the twenty fourth century. We have warp  
drive. We are out among the stars! Is ancient religion really that  
important any more?"  
  
Chakotay smiled again, as if hiding a secret.  
"To me it is," he answered.  
"Religion," interjected Seven of Nine, "A collective belief shared by more  
than one individual. In my studies I have found several references to  
Earth-based religions, nearly all of which accounted for several million  
deaths."  
"The people, not the religions, were responsible for the deaths on ancient  
Earth," said Chakotay.  
"It would seem," said Seven of Nine, "that the majority of religions were  
invented by groups of people as an attempt to explain phenomena which they  
did not understand, and thus ascribed a supernatural meaning in order to  
gain insight."  
"Possibly, but then again, there may have been merit to their  
explanations."  
"There was no scientific data to corroborate their stated beliefs."  
Paris raised his hand.  
"Seven, we're keeping Chakotay, and I'm sure we're being expected in the  
mess hall. We'd better go."  
  
As they walked away, Paris called out over his shoulder.  
"If you change your mind, you know where to find us!"  
  
  
It was dim in his quarters. The only light was that cast by the faint glow  
of the candles. Chakotay sat cross-legged, eyes closed, meditating,  
concentrating, breathing. There was silence in his quarters. The  
ever-present low hum of the warp field generators could be heard and even  
felt as he sat motionless. But there were no other sounds.  
  
"Akuchimoya, we are far from the sacred places of our forefathers."  
Suddenly, and without warning, he was in a forest, in a jungle. It was  
hot, very hot, and humid. He was sweating profusely. This was not any place  
that he knew. He looked around, to try and locate his surroundings. There  
was lush vegetation surrounding him, tall ferns, knee-high green grass, and  
shrubs and bushes of all kinds. A little off to the north was a thick  
forest of closely packed trees. Up above the sun shone down mercilessly in  
a cloudless blue sky. There was the sound of a rushing river nearby, but  
he could not see water.  
  
Chakotay could not understand it. He had not expected to go on a vision  
quest this day. He had not asked for it. So why was he here? He looked  
around, confused. It was getting hotter by the minute. He shaded his eyes  
and looked up at the sky. Blistering heat. He wiped his forehead and  
began thinking of shade.  
  
A growl brought him whirling around. Behind him, standing on his hind  
legs, was a large grizzly bear, his black coat of fur shining splendidly in the  
bright sunlight. Chakotay knew this bear. It was his Spirit Guide. He  
had learnt to respect it. Now he stood, not far from the bear, watching in  
anticipation. He showed no fear. And the bear settled down onto all four  
limbs, and began to amble away lazily. Chakotay stood where he was.  
Eventually the bear stopped, just at the edge of the forest, turned its head  
once to look back at Chakotay, and then vanished inside the thicket of tree  
trunks.  
  
Instinctively Chakotay followed. He began walking at first, and then broke  
  
into a jog, and was soon running towards the edge of the forest as fast as  
his legs could carry him. When he reached the forest, however, he was not  
met with the cool inviting shade that he expected. Instead, he found  
himself in a war zone. This was a desert, with rocks and boulders strewn  
across the land. And bodies in Starfleet uniforms lay scattered across the  
sand. Dead, or dying. There was phasor fire, screams, and shouts. He was  
disoriented. He was still trying to get his bearings when someone walked  
up to him holding a phasor rifle at the ready, barrel pointed skyward. It was  
  
Captain Janeway. She did not look well. Half her face had been badly  
burned by phasor fire, and her uniform was torn in several places. Red  
blood flowed from an open wound on her left shoulder, and stained her  
entire left arm in crimson. Yet she had a determined look on her face, and her  
jaw set hard.  
"Kathryn!" cried Chakotay, "What happened?"  
"We're under attack," she said quickly, "They took us by surprise. Their  
technology is superior than ours. We are outmatched in firepower. We have  
suffered heavy losses. But we must prevail!"  
Chakotay looked around at the numerous dead bodies lying on the ground, and  
he shook his head.  
"How can we? Who is attacking us?"  
  
Just then there was a shout, and a Starfleet officer tumbled to his death  
behind Janeway. She swung around, readying her rifle, and stepped forward.  
  
"Kathryn!" cried Chakotay, "No!"  
  
The bear stood up on its haunches again, growling in its deep roar.  
Chakotay saw it high above on a ridge, towering in its majesty.  
  
"What am I supposed to do here?" he whispered, asking it.  
  
Chakotay opened his eyes suddenly. The room was still dark. The candles  
had burned down to a centimeter, and the flames were low and unsteady on  
them. He took a deep breath, and looked around. Familiar quarters. How  
long had his vision been? Hours? He leaned forward and blew out the  
candles.  
"Computer, lights," he said, rising and stretching his stiff limbs.  
  
The next day he had the first watch on the bridge. Given the disturbing  
imagery of his vision the night before, he kept an extra keen eye on the  
sensors, long range and short range. But he detected nothing. He ordered  
Tuvok to double security drills.  
"Is there a particular reason for increased security, Commander?" Tuvok had  
inquired, in his matter-of-fact, Vulcan way.  
"No particular reason," Chakotay had answered. "Just think it can't hurt to  
be safer."  
Tuvok nodded, as the explanation was enough for him. He immediately began  
the plans for the added security drills.  
  
After four hours there was no sign of trouble, and the crew was in high  
spirits. But Chakotay was still haunted by the images of his vision from  
the previous night. He found it hard to relax.  
  
He went to the mess hall after his duty shift. The furry Talexian cook,  
Neelix, was delighted as usual to see him.  
"Ah, Commander," said Neelix, following him around like some human-feline  
hybrid, "we all missed you at the impromptu celebration last night. Er,  
could I interest you in some Bolian stew? The broth is made from the  
szelti root, which we were able to harvest enough of from the last M-class  
planet that we visited."  
Chakotay smiled at Neelix.  
"Sure," he said, "I'll try some of that."  
"Coming right up!" cheered Neelix as he hurried into the kicthen to prepare  
a bowl of the Bolian stew.  
  
  
After a steaming hot bowl of Bolian stew and a few rounds of coffee,  
Chakotay was finally beginning to relax. He sat at a corner table,  
Studying a padd, with the window full of stars just beside him. He was not   
gazing out the window, as anyone seated at that table might be tempted to do.   
  
He was studying the metrics on the warp core realignment. The Chief Enginner,  
B'Elanna Torres, had just completed the realignment a week ago, and had  
incorporated several of her own enhancements to the warp core systems  
functionality. It was primarily a software package addition, but warp core  
operations depended on specific protocols and instructions. In Starfleet,  
Engineers were severely warned against tampering with warp core operations;  
but Torres was convinced that she could improve Warp Engine throughput by  
point seven or point eight percent. Janeway had given her the approval to  
attempt her enhancements. As it turned out, the improved engine throughput  
was well over one percent. A significant improvement, and one that might  
considerably shorten their journey to the Alpha Quadrant. Chakotay grinned  
in pride. Torres was brilliant. She always had been. And she had always  
taken the most foolhardy risks. Even when they were the Maquis.  
  
Chakotay sighed and put the padd on the table in front of him. He sat  
staring ahead of him for several seconds, before something caused him to  
turn his head and look out the window. It was not just shining stars  
against the black matte of Space any more. He witnessed an alarming sight.  
  
There was an object hurtling towards Voyager, towards his window, towards  
him. He staggered to his feet, just as it closed in on its approach. It  
was spinning and rotating wildly, as if out of control. Brown in color,  
shaped very irregularly, as if it had once been a cylinder, but had been  
beaten and battered out of shape countless times. It could not have been  
larger then a probe, but was traveling at significantly higher velocity.  
  
The object came right at him. He got to his feet in time, and stepped  
backwards. Inside his mind he said to himself,  
"The shields will keep it out. And even if it penetrates shields, it  
cannot rupture the hull. Not that thing. It's not strong enough."  
He had not noticed the general alarm for Red Alert. His attention had been  
focused on the object outside the window. He saw it penetrate the outer  
shield perimeter. And then the inner perimeter. As it came flying  
towards him, it filled the window, and then crashed into it, causing the Voyager  
hull to groan loudly, and rock everyone inside off their feet.  
  
When Chakotay stood up, the lighting was replaced by the emergency red  
Alert lighting, and he heard the general alarm for Red Alert. He looked up at  
The window. The object had managed to crack the window, but had not penetrated  
the hull.  
"Chakotay to Engineering," he said, activating his comm badge. A harried  
Torres came over the signal.  
"Local hull breach on deck twelve, the mess hall. I got it," she said,  
indicating that she already knew about the breach.  
"Well, it hasn't breached yet, but it may be a good idea to come down and  
seal it up anyway," said Chakotay.  
"Chakotay, my God are you still down there?" Torres was shocked. "Get out  
of there, there may be a hull failure any second!"  
Chakotay allowed himself a grin as he walked out of the mess hall.  
  
  
On the bridge, Captain Janeway was perplexed. She turned to Chakotay as he  
entered.  
"Chakotay, we've had twelve attacks by those 'pods', so far. It looks like  
they are attempting to breach our hull. And a damn fine job they are doing  
too. They are penetrating our shields. We cannot lock phasors because  
they materialize too soon."  
"Materialize?"  
"Yes, someone is transporting those pods here seconds before the moment of  
impact. That's why we didn't notice the first few until it was too late.  
Tuvok, any luck?"  
Tuvok was at his station.  
"We are not able to detect the origin of the pods, Captain. Our only  
option may be to move out of this area of Space."  
Janeway considered the options. Another lurch, another warning message  
sounded. Another "pod" had embedded itself in Voyagers hull. Torres came  
over the comm system:  
"Captain, there are too many of these things. If they continue ramming us  
at this rate, we will lose structural integrity in no time! If we don't  
have a hull breach first!"  
  
Janeway gave the order.  
"Helm, move us away, full Impulse."  
  
"Aye Sir!" Tom Paris began to steer the ship away from the present course  
and heading. Another lurch. And then:  
"Captain, navigation is not responding. We have lost thrusters."  
"Do we have warp power?"  
"The warp core just went offline."  
"Engineering, report."  
"The new warp core realignment modules have failed," replied Torres, " I am  
attempting to switch to backups."  
"Make it quick," said Janeway as yet another pod impaled the Starship.  
Tuvok made his report:  
"We are now embedded with fifteen alien pods. We have lost containment and  
life support on decks twelve, seventeen, nineteen, and twenty one."  
"Seal off those decks, emergency forcefields, level one restriction."  
  
***  
  
The warp core was offline. And the ships navigational controls were not  
responding. Torres was working frantically to restore the system backups  
to get the warp core back online, at least long enough for them to move far  
away enough to escape the attacks by the pods. But warp engines were  
off-line. Shields were inconsequential as the pods penetrated them easily.  
  
Within minutes, Voyager was crippled.  
  
It was then that the huge brown vessel de-cloaked above Voyager. It was a  
huge, lumbering giant of a ship, with a great, block-like geometry, which  
strongly contrasted with Voyagers sleek aerodynamic shape. They all saw it  
on the main view-screen. There was no communication from the ship.  
Instead, the aliens beamed aboard. Onto the bridge. Armed with weapons.  
  
At the immediate sight of the materializing invaders, Janeway tapped her  
comm badge:  
"Computer, critical systems emergency lock-out, authorization Janeway pi pi  
one one zero eight three, enable."  
Eight aliens had materialized onto Voyagers bridge. Although humanoid in  
appearance, they were larger in size and more menacing. They had ridges  
which began on the nose and continued all the way to the top of their  
foreheads. Each wore a deep brown uniform with a gold crest on the  
shoulder and chest. And each carried a weapon that resembled a Starfleet phasor  
rifle. But their weapons fired energy blasts similar to Romulan  
disrupters.  
  
Chakotay saw it all as if in a dream. Eight aliens had materialized onto  
the bridge of the Federation Starship Voyager. Phasor fire was being  
exchanged. The computer sounded the general alarm.  
"Warning. Intruder alert. Warning"  
  
Chakotay turned to see Janeway standing in front of the Captains chair, her  
phasor in hand, firing at an alien who was lurching towards her. He fell  
on top of her and they both tumbled to the ground. Chakotay looked around  
desperately. There were wounded. Paris lay sprawled across the helm, his  
red blood streaked across the glossy controls. Harry Kim had a phasor in  
each hand, and was firing with abandon, while Tuvok was engaged in a  
physical struggle with one of the aliens. More intruders materialized on  
the bridge.  
  
Chakotay ran towards Paris. He was intercepted by a growling alien, who  
struck him down forcefully. Chakotay landed painfully and felt his elbow  
crack. Then, searing pain of a scorching heat upon his back. He cried out  
in pain. . .  
  
. . . he did not pass out. He lost consciousness momentarily, but was soon  
  
painfully aware of what was happening on the bridge. Kim was down, Tuvok  
pinned helplessly to the wall, and Seven of Nine lay in a crumpled heap  
beside the turbolift doors. And Janeway was lying on the floor in a pool  
of blood. Chakotay struggled against the searing pain in his back to turn his  
head and look around him. There was not a single crew member left  
standing. He worried for all of them. He hoped against all hope that they had not been killed.  
  
Now there was a subdued silence on the bridge. The alien beings walked  
freely, and discussed plans in low undertones. One had taken his place at  
the Captain's chair, and was overseeing the takeover efforts. They had  
managed to shut off the computer warnings, and general alarm Red Alert. So  
that now the only sounds on the bridge were the sounds of the battle damage  
to the ship, and the low conversations of the intruders.  
  
Chakotay reached a hand out painfully, and tried to pull himself up. He  
realized that his back must be burnt, bleeding, or worse. He could not  
feel his legs, and his vision was beginning to become blurred. He battled to  
stay conscious, while he teetered on the edge of darkness. He grit his  
teeth, and clenched his jaw.  
"Awake, Chakotay!" he told himself. The pain in his back spread to his  
shoulders, and upper arms. It seeped into his lungs, which made his  
breathing raspy and hollow. He coughed, choked. He was losing his vision.  
  
He winced as the pain racked his body. It seared through him like a white  
hot iron rod. It tore into his flesh and ate at it, until he could feel it  
searing away and falling off his bones, burnt and smoldering. The pain  
shot angrily up into his brain, and his head throbbed violently. . .  
  
All over the ship the aliens had invaded. They had obtained control,  
secured the ship, and were now on patrol, seeking out any remaining  
Starfleet officers, to neutralize them.  
  
And on the bridge, Chakotay began to give in to the overwhelming pain that  
was taking over his body and mind. He swayed on the edge of the conscious  
and the unconscious, the light and the dark, the living and the dead . . .  
  
"Akuchimoya."  
  
He gasped. He looked up. He saw. The aliens were all there, walking with  
weapons in hand. But beyond them, on another plane, in another existence,  
and yet there, on the bridge, stood his Spirit Guide, the Great Grizzly, on  
his haunches. Growling. Looking back at him.  
  
"Akuchimoya, I call upon the sacred names and places of our forefathers. I  
beseech you."  
  
He let out a long slow painful breath. He must stay awake. He must . . .  
prevail.  
  
"Help me now, in my time of need. In the names of our sacred ancestors I  
beg for help . . . give me courage."  
  
The aliens seemed to be multiplying. They had begun to drag the prone  
bodies away, leaving trails of blood on the floor. Chakotay winced as he  
saw one of the aliens lift Janeway's body by the ankles and drag her to the  
corner unceremoniously, dropping her down alongside Seven of Nine, Paris,  
and the others, all of whom had been heaped up in one tangled mass of flesh  
and bone. Chakotay's eyes brimmed, and silent tears dropped onto the  
carpeted floor of the bridge.  
  
"Father, I beseech you, give me Strength."  
  
The grizzly dropped down onto all fours, and then lazily ambled towards the  
turbo-lift doors. . .  
  
Down on deck twelve, two of the alien soldiers had finished patrolling the  
section, and approached the turbo-lift doors to move to the next deck.  
They did not expect any further resistance from the Starfleet officers. It had  
been relatively easy to take the ship, and they had had only a very few  
casualties. It was a much better raid than compared to some of their  
previous conquests. Their race was known as the Djakin. A fearful  
species, powerful and technologically sophisticated. They were raiders,   
explorers, scientists, and inventors. But they were not merciful.  
  
The turbo-lift doors slid open and an astonishing sight met their eyes.  
Red and Black Uniform. Federation. He stood almost as tall as them, and had a  
face covered with tattoos. He smiled boldly in their faces, a wide grin,  
ear-to-ear. And an instant later he had raised the phasor in his hand,  
pointing it first at one of the Djakin soldiers, firing, and then at the  
next. They were not quick enough to fire their weapons. They tumbled to  
their deaths.  
  
In Astrometrics, three Djakin soldiers were on patrol. There was a beep at  
the door. Two of them answered the door. Outside stood a man whose face  
was covered with tattoos. Instantly he gripped the nearest Djakin by the  
throat in a vice-like grip, strangling him, while firing his phasor on the  
other two, who again were not quite quick enough to reach their weapons in  
time. . .  
  
In the same instant, five more Djakin soldiers were patrolling Engineering.  
  
They heard a sound below the main deck, down where the warp core  
Maintenance room was. Two soldiers headed down to investigate, while the   
other three remained on the main deck. There was phasor fire down below, and screams  
Of Djakin soldeirs. . .  
  
The main Engineering doors slid open and a man walked in. He had tattoos  
On his face . . .  
  
***  
  
The Emergency Medical Hologram was able to attend to the injuries suffered  
by the crew. They had thirty five casualties in all. But most of the rest  
were only very severely wounded. Captain Janeway suffered several broken  
bones and phasor burns. Seven of Nine had a punctured lung and some severe  
lacerations. Tuvok suffered a broken arm and four broken ribs. Paris had  
lost a lot of blood from an open wound. But the Doctor had been able to  
get to everyone in time, and they were all in sick bay, healing slowly. All,  
including Chakotay.  
  
The Doctor walked over to Chakotay as he lay on the bed, bandages covering  
his chest, head and hands.  
"Tell me," said the Doctor. "How did we manage to re-take the ship from the  
alien species?"  
"A little luck, a little faith, I suppose."  
"You were unconscious after you were shot. You could not stand, let alone  
assist the crew in retaking Voyager."  
"I never said I was the one who did it."  
  
The Doctor considered Chakotay's answer. Then he nodded and returned to  
His work of tending the wounded.  
  
  
T h e E n d  
(c) Jasjit Singh, 1999  
  



End file.
